"moderato" poems - Hello Poetry

Well hello, all, I’m your maestro ceremonious they call me Lokonious, purveyor of the odious so sit back, relax, and celebrate the… atonalness? A: Andante con fuoco We’re goin’ a cappella so let me say first your style’s ba-roke, now let’s get on with the verse you’re all up in the scale with a falsetto pitch hittin’ soprano like a castrato ***** my mind is sharp, while you’re stuck outta key my rhythm’s all natural, you can’t find a beat you need some help ’cause you’re out on your own find that ****** on a subway, the metro-nome B: Allegro con brio throw down the fermata and hold up a minute your ***** a cacophony, no way to spin it and son, i ain’t broke, my style’s all classical you just can’t register that my words are magical I spit rhymes in fantasy, can’t you see that you’re beat? And they thought an allegro was unfit for elegy A: Moderato col legno well as for your girl, it may sound corny the ***** loves my brass ’cause she’s: oh so ***** dispel your illusion, i got one more your girl’s like a crime show… easy to score B: Allegretto grazioso your intellect is minor and your insults are bassless your composition’s hardly a harmony: graceless your cymbalism’s trite, and your motif’s unknown an unfocused opus full of dissonant drones A: Affrettando agitato get out my face with your unnatural rap you spit cold air and your lyrics are flat you’ve got no harm while my canon’s a gat so work on your refrain, ‘fore I bust da cap-OOOHHHHH B: Coda pull your weak crap, ’cause you’re outta your mode such imperfect rhymes that we’re calling a cod-a no time for the fanfare, you’re trying my patience an end to your requiem, bring out the cadence So that’s their story, best not get involved their fight’s an augmented fourth: difficult to resolve

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Jun 13, 2012

Jun 13, 2012 at 5:47 PM UTC

djr

La Battaglia

Well hello, all, I’m your maestro ceremonious they call me Lokonious, purveyor of the odious so sit back, relax, and celebrate the… atonalness? A: Andante con fuoco We’re goin’ a cappella so let me say first your style’s ba-roke, now let’s get on with the verse you’re all up in the scale with a falsetto pitch hittin’ soprano like a castrato ***** my mind is sharp, while you’re stuck outta key my rhythm’s all natural, you can’t find a beat you need some help ’cause you’re out on your own find that ****** on a subway, the metro-nome B: Allegro con brio throw down the fermata and hold up a minute your ***** a cacophony, no way to spin it and son, i ain’t broke, my style’s all classical you just can’t register that my words are magical I spit rhymes in fantasy, can’t you see that you’re beat? And they thought an allegro was unfit for elegy A: Moderato col legno well as for your girl, it may sound corny the ***** loves my brass ’cause she’s: oh so ***** dispel your illusion, i got one more your girl’s like a crime show… easy to score B: Allegretto grazioso your intellect is minor and your insults are bassless your composition’s hardly a harmony: graceless your cymbalism’s trite, and your motif’s unknown an unfocused opus full of dissonant drones A: Affrettando agitato get out my face with your unnatural rap you spit cold air and your lyrics are flat you’ve got no harm while my canon’s a gat so work on your refrain, ‘fore I bust da cap-OOOHHHHH B: Coda pull your weak crap, ’cause you’re outta your mode such imperfect rhymes that we’re calling a cod-a no time for the fanfare, you’re trying my patience an end to your requiem, bring out the cadence So that’s their story, best not get involved their fight’s an augmented fourth: difficult to resolve

41

Keeping a vision ever since A feeling to aim for Living in that vision Longing for it every day Catching shooting stars Eating aeroplanes Blowing candles on a cake Wishing the same wish in every possible way Put oneself through obstacles In hopes of a worthy exchange Working towards that dream That forms whenever eyes are closed *That one thing... That moves... Slowly... Peacefully... Gentle and carefree Happy and soothing* A sweet life in moderation.

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Jul 8, 2016

Jul 8, 2016 at 10:26 AM UTC

angelwithashotgun

Vita Dolce Moderato

Keeping a vision ever since A feeling to aim for Living in that vision Longing for it every day Catching shooting stars Eating aeroplanes Blowing candles on a cake Wishing the same wish in every possible way Put oneself through obstacles In hopes of a worthy exchange Working towards that dream That forms whenever eyes are closed *That one thing... That moves... Slowly... Peacefully... Gentle and carefree Happy and soothing* A sweet life in moderation.

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Presto, with haste, bring forth the measure, striking sound to create. Allegro, with grace, flow forth like a river, beauty in God's eternal round. Moderato, with taste, medium to the greats, note upon note, slowly mounting. Andante, with slackened pace, venerable vineyard of sound, sing forth, no appeasement for the proud. Adagio, with measured blow, The Hammer on anvil, ring out your chord, the tonic repeats below. Presto, cantabile, homunculus, the human voice, Stradivari sings to us.

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Oct 21, 2013

Oct 21, 2013 at 3:50 PM UTC

ap-beckstead

Presto Cantabile

Presto, with haste, bring forth the measure, striking sound to create. Allegro, with grace, flow forth like a river, beauty in God's eternal round. Moderato, with taste, medium to the greats, note upon note, slowly mounting. Andante, with slackened pace, venerable vineyard of sound, sing forth, no appeasement for the proud. Adagio, with measured blow, The Hammer on anvil, ring out your chord, the tonic repeats below. Presto, cantabile, homunculus, the human voice, Stradivari sings to us.

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the Diabelli Variations play on the stereo you in your world me in my own with off-beat accents and a grand and solemn glow no one has come to see us, alone, the theme in time begins a timeless, elegant echo although we might not know maybe a little pompous as the mock-heroics grow our reflections come and gone five, six, seven play in their various allegro we may never need be shown matching our own Tempo di Menuetto moderato what has come to us unknown

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Apr 13, 2012

Apr 13, 2012 at 10:24 AM UTC

john-mahoney

the Diabelli Variations play on the stereo

the Diabelli Variations play on the stereo you in your world me in my own with off-beat accents and a grand and solemn glow no one has come to see us, alone, the theme in time begins a timeless, elegant echo although we might not know maybe a little pompous as the mock-heroics grow our reflections come and gone five, six, seven play in their various allegro we may never need be shown matching our own Tempo di Menuetto moderato what has come to us unknown

12

Someone once told me that I am a slow song starting to accelerate. At Larghissio, I have a calm demeanor. Not the calm of a warm sunny day. But a somber calm where I slowly slit a person's throat whilst listening to classical music. Grave is where things gets mixed with feelings but where I refused to acknowledge it. The trend today is dead inside. But hey, the shade my mother threw at me about my grades during dinner is at the back of my head. Largo is a little dangerous. My father is trying to communicate to the four-year-old little girl that was swallowed down along with his drugs. I am no longer dead inside when I acknowledge that it's wrong. Adagietto is a fancy word. So is dementia. Now, it's harder to stand in front of the grandfather who can't remember me. Hurt is an emotion. Andante means I am hurt. With hurt, I think one loses rationale. Moderato is for moderate. But, at moderato, hurt has led me to my anxiety cabin. Hereon, the walls I have created around me becomes a physical embodiment when all I do is stay in my room. I want to slow down the pace. But now, I am starting to hear more than one song. Some of it, I am singing on my own. All of it, at Allegro. My blanket was my hero at Allegro. I named it 'Depression' and I wore it all the time to cover my ears. As for rationale, there being none, I found myself and all my songs at Vivace. The most vivid was my mothers'. She'd often peek through my walls. Sing a heavy metal song about my disobedience of wearing depression. When she got tired, she'd stop singing. Now, I am left with my songs at Allegro and the distant voice of my grandfather who sings for himself at Larghissio. The more I try to grasp the lullaby of my grandfather, the faster my songs rise to Vivace. I am strong but not strong enough to sing multiple songs at Vivace. Respectively, often these days, I fear that all of my songs would abruptly stop at Presto. But, on most days, I think about falling back to the next song on your playlist, and it doesn't matter at what tempo.

0

May 10, 2018

May 10, 2018 at 5:25 AM UTC

mortuus-stella

Me, but a song

Someone once told me that I am a slow song starting to accelerate. At Larghissio, I have a calm demeanor. Not the calm of a warm sunny day. But a somber calm where I slowly slit a person's throat whilst listening to classical music. Grave is where things gets mixed with feelings but where I refused to acknowledge it. The trend today is dead inside. But hey, the shade my mother threw at me about my grades during dinner is at the back of my head. Largo is a little dangerous. My father is trying to communicate to the four-year-old little girl that was swallowed down along with his drugs. I am no longer dead inside when I acknowledge that it's wrong. Adagietto is a fancy word. So is dementia. Now, it's harder to stand in front of the grandfather who can't remember me. Hurt is an emotion. Andante means I am hurt. With hurt, I think one loses rationale. Moderato is for moderate. But, at moderato, hurt has led me to my anxiety cabin. Hereon, the walls I have created around me becomes a physical embodiment when all I do is stay in my room. I want to slow down the pace. But now, I am starting to hear more than one song. Some of it, I am singing on my own. All of it, at Allegro. My blanket was my hero at Allegro. I named it 'Depression' and I wore it all the time to cover my ears. As for rationale, there being none, I found myself and all my songs at Vivace. The most vivid was my mothers'. She'd often peek through my walls. Sing a heavy metal song about my disobedience of wearing depression. When she got tired, she'd stop singing. Now, I am left with my songs at Allegro and the distant voice of my grandfather who sings for himself at Larghissio. The more I try to grasp the lullaby of my grandfather, the faster my songs rise to Vivace. I am strong but not strong enough to sing multiple songs at Vivace. Respectively, often these days, I fear that all of my songs would abruptly stop at Presto. But, on most days, I think about falling back to the next song on your playlist, and it doesn't matter at what tempo.

35

Je te dis Vous Ta Majesté Car vous êtes plurielle Je vous dis tu Votre Seigneurie Car tu es singulière. Tu ou vous Vous ou tu Êtes la dyade La deuxième personne Les sœurs siamoises Démultipliées dans le labyrinthe De la conjugaison À tous les temps du verbe et de la chair Et c'est pour cette raison unique Que je vous t'aime Et que je te vous aime Dodécaphoniquement Et que je vous conjugue Et que je vous hume les notes du cou Et que je te renifle les lunes en rut Et que les temps s'abolissent Que les silences deviennent bis Et les pauses deviennent ut Et que les dièses et les bémols ouvrent Les clés de fa et les portées Et que moderato cantabile je respire Les noires et les blanches Les croches et les rondes Du bas du dos de dentelle De votre tienne excellence Ad libitum...

0

Nov 18, 2019

Nov 18, 2019 at 4:54 AM UTC

cyclone-wolfok-baltimore

Je te dis vous

Je te dis Vous Ta Majesté Car vous êtes plurielle Je vous dis tu Votre Seigneurie Car tu es singulière. Tu ou vous Vous ou tu Êtes la dyade La deuxième personne Les sœurs siamoises Démultipliées dans le labyrinthe De la conjugaison À tous les temps du verbe et de la chair Et c'est pour cette raison unique Que je vous t'aime Et que je te vous aime Dodécaphoniquement Et que je vous conjugue Et que je vous hume les notes du cou Et que je te renifle les lunes en rut Et que les temps s'abolissent Que les silences deviennent bis Et les pauses deviennent ut Et que les dièses et les bémols ouvrent Les clés de fa et les portées Et que moderato cantabile je respire Les noires et les blanches Les croches et les rondes Du bas du dos de dentelle De votre tienne excellence Ad libitum...

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